


Dinner and an Essay

by virdant



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Food, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant
Summary: Obi-Wan just wants to host a nice dinner with all of his friends. Anakin has an essay that he still hasn't written. These two facts are connected more than one'd expect.
Relationships: Aayla Secura & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos
Comments: 13
Kudos: 238





	Dinner and an Essay

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [客氣 | courtesy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312254) by [virdant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant). 



> posting this because it's positivity weekend over at the jedi appreciation discord, so here is some jedi positivity. :)

Anakin shoveled a bite of his meal and choked.

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, instantly, leaning over. He pulled Anakin’s plate over. “Let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine!” Anakin, sixteen years old and an adept padawan flushed and hissed, “I can cut my meat myself.”

On Obi-Wan’s other side, Quinlan snickered. He leaned over, throwing an arm around Obi-Wan. “You can cut my meat for me, Obi-Wan.” He winked for good measure.

Anakin made a face. “Gross.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Quinlan said, still hanging off of Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Across from them, Luminara covered a smile with a hand, and Bant openly burbled a laugh. Obi-Wan simply smiled and pulled Quinlan’s plate over to start cutting his serving of the nerf dish into bite-sized pieces.

“I don’t think that innuendo is exactly what you’re going for,” Obi-Wan said. But he was smiling as he bent over Quinlan’s plate.

“What if I winked with both eyes?”

Bant chimed in. “That’s called blinking, and it’s necessary for optimal eye function, Quin.”

Anakin sighed as he poked his own serving of the spiced nerf dish that Obi-Wan had made. 

“Anyways, how was your mission, Quin?” Luminara asked. “And where’s Aayla?”

“About that…” Quinlan began.

* * *

The best place to start was at the beginning.

Anakin had just become Obi-Wan’s padawan when Quinlan Vos showed up in their quarters. Literally showed up, as he keyed open the door and marched straight in without so much as a by-your-leave.

Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad. He did not seem bothered. “Quinlan,” he said, smiling.

Anakin, who’d been pretending to work on his Introduction to Mid-Rim Cultures and History assignment, took the out he’d been given and promptly dropped his assignment in favor of the far more interesting diversion.

Quinlan tossed a packet over to Obi-Wan, who caught it easily. “Smuggled some spices through customs. You’re cooking me dinner.”

Anakin barely had time to gape at this intrusion into what had seemed like a quiet evening. Obi-Wan opened the packet appreciatively. “One day,” he said, as he sorted through the flimsiplast packages, “you’ll have to learn to cook for yourself.”

“Why would I, when I have you?”

Anakin was pretty sure there was a commissary, given that Obi-Wan had taken him there the first day they arrived at the Temple. He was about to point that out—

“Yes, yes.” Obi-Wan said, agreeably, “I’ll need a few hours.”

“What?”

Anakin was summarily ignored as Quinlan crowed in delight. “I’ll let the others know. See you!” He wiggled his fingers in a salute before he left their quarters as suddenly as he’d arrived. 

Anakin stared at where Quinlan had stood, which also happened to be the doorway to their shared quarters, not sure if he had just imagined the entire interaction, given that it had happened so quickly. “What just happened?”

Obi-Wan, nonplussed, just stepped into the kitchen, smiling. “Oh, nothing. Quinlan came back.”

* * *

Anakin quickly learned that Quinlan Vos always showed up after missions, some bag of spices or dried herbs or some sort of seasoning in hand. He’d toss it at Obi-Wan, who’d always catch it. (Anakin suspected the Force was involved.) He’d demand a meal, and Obi-Wan would oblige. He’d go off to corral other Knights and drag them to Obi-Wan’s place.

Obi-Wan never complained, even though Anakin sometimes thought that he should. But Obi-Wan was a good Jedi, and into patience and generosity and serenity, which meant putting up with Quinlan’s demands.

And Quinlan was very persistent. 

He’d show up and lean into Obi-Wan’s space, he’d come back from missions with a gift in hand, and then he’d leave to go and invite a handful of others. Sometimes he’d show up with his padawan in tow. 

Anakin liked Aayla, if only because she seemed just as despairing of Quinlan’s actions. They’d exchange baffled glances at each other when Quinlan barreled into their rooms. Aayla’d shrug at him as Quinlan flung an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and dropped another package into his expectant hands. Anakin would roll his eyes when Quinlan winked outrageously at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan though. Obi-Wan kept letting Quinlan into their rooms, kept giving him the new door code when Anakin sliced it to change it to something Quinlan didn’t know, kept taking Quinlan’s gifts and cooking for him.

And everybody else.

After Quinlan had shown up, thrown a package into Obi-Wan’s hands, dropped some innuendo, and disappeared to corral the others to latemeal, Obi-Wan had switched away from some dusty manuscript about Outer-Rim Fauna to put in an order at Stores. “Have to order extra, and more seafood, especially if Bant is coming,” he muttered.

Anakin, trying to ignore his now overdue Intermediate Mid-Rim Diplomacy assignment, said, “Bant’s coming?”

“Of course she’s coming,” Obi-Wan said, cheerfully. “Why wouldn’t she be? And Luminara’s in-temple right now, so no doubt she’ll be by as well.”

Anakin sighed.

“So many mouths to feed,” Obi-Wan murmured, as he tapped away. “And Ogem isn’t an aquatic planet, so I’ll have to make sure that there’s something for Bant; I don’t think Ogem’s foods are quite compatible with the Mon Calamari digestive system. But I think I can modify that dish to use fish instead…”

Anakin sighed again as Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed and he bent over his pad more decisively. “Why didn’t you just tell Quinlan not to invite anybody else?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Obi-Wan tapped his pad decisively. “There, that should do it. The order will be ready to be picked up in an hour. Will you be coming with me to help carry it back?”

Anakin shook his head.

“No? Alright, I’ll go myself.”

“No!” Anakin burst out. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I’ll get it for you.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Thank you, Anakin. That’s very kind of you.”

Anakin regretted his decision rather quickly, as Master Yim of Advanced Force Theory caught him using the Force to help carry the many many packages that Obi-Wan had ordered from Stores and assigned him an essay on frivolous uses of the Force.

* * *

Anakin, now faced with two essays that he didn’t want to write, was staring at his datapad in hope that it would write his essays for him.

The last time he tried complaining about his assignments, Obi-Wan had hummed thoughtfully and said, sagely, “It’s important to be well-educated,” and launched into a long lecture that Anakin only heard about a third of. But he’d heard enough to know that he didn’t want another lecture, one that would be worse if Obi-Wan knew that he hadn’t even started his overdue assignment, and that meant staring in silence at his datapad, wondering if he could write a program to write an essay for him.

Obi-Wan was in the kitchen, having taken the packages from Stores and disappeared to do whatever it was he was doing. Anakin had given up trying to keep up with Obi-Wan’s persistent need to feed everybody in his general vicinity. 

Anakin glared at his datapad harder.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called, “are you done with your assignments yet?”

“Yes!” Anakin said, dropping his pad like a stone. 

He poked his head out. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Come help chop the vegetables then.”

Anakin grimaced. Chopping vegetables was only moderately better than hoping his assignment would write itself. “Actually,” he said, “I was going to find Aayla.”

Obi-Wan’s brow wrinkled. “Aren’t you going to see her at dinner in a few hours?”

“It’s uh, urgent.”

“Alright.”

“Very important,” Anakin babbled. 

“Uh huh.”

“I mean, I promised I’d talk to her when she got back. Alone. Yeah.”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan smiled. “You don’t need to explain yourself. Tell Aayla I look forward to seeing her at latemeal.”

“Right.” Anakin started towards the door, and then scooped up his datapad. “Right. I’ll be back for latemeal.”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“I’ll just—”

“Go, Anakin.”

“Right.”

* * *

Aayla, that traitor, snorted when she opened the door to see Anakin. “I’m not writing your essay for you. You should have written it yourself instead of spending all your time fixing droids.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to!” Anakin protested, “Just some tips? Or advice?”

“You should ask Master Obi-Wan,” Aayla said. “Master Quinlan says he got top marks in all of his diplomacy classes.”

“But he’ll sigh disappointedly.”

Aayla paused in thought. “Well, do you know how to solve that?”

Anakin eyed her suspiciously.

With a gleam in her eye befitting her position as Quinlan Vos’ padawan, Aayla Secura leaned in and said, “Come up with something that he’ll be even more disappointed by.”

* * *

Anakin made it back to his quarters as Obi-Wan finishing cooking, and right before Quinlan Vos swept into their quarters without knocking. Anakin didn’t even have time to call a greeting before Quinlan was saying, loud and cheerful, “Bant and Luminara said they’d be here. I don’t think anybody else is in-temple.”

Obi-Wan said. “Yes, I checked the mission roster. Garen and Reeft are out on missions.” He nodded at Anakin.

Quinlan settled onto the low couch. “Have you cooked for Garen recently?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “We’ve missed each other for the past few cycles.” He sighed. “Who knows what he’s been eating out in the field. Garen’s the worst eater. Last time I talked to him he was living on chips and vodka.” He turned back to the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

“So send him some ration bars!”

“I already did!”

Quinlan glanced at Anakin. “What’s up, squirt?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Quinlan just laughed.

“Where’s Aayla?” Obi-Wan added. “Weren’t you just with her?”

“She’s uh.” 

“You were with Aayla?” Quinlan looked surprised. “Huh.”

“Uh.”

Obi-Wan stuck his head out of the kitchen just to frown at him. “Anakin,” he began.

“I really was with Aayla,” Anakin protested. “We were…”

Planning how to make Obi-Wan furious and disappointed, so Anakin’s procrastination on his Mid-Rim Diplomacy assignment wouldn’t warrant as stern a lecture, and his acquiring of another essay from Master Yim would only get a disappointed look.

Anakin opened his mouth, and then closed it.

Suddenly, the plan that he and Aayla had come up with didn’t sound so great after all.

Obi-Wan eyed him, his expression slanting from mild disappointment to moderate disappointment.

Quinlan flung his head back and guffawed. “Seriously?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “What?”

Quinlan flapped a hand. “Just something Aayla said. Don’t mind us.”

Obi-Wan shrugged and turned back into the kitchen.

Obi-Wan safely ensconced in the kitchen, Anakin flushed. “This wouldn’t have happened if you keep bothering Obi-Wan!” he hissed.

Quinlan just laughed. “Obi-Wan, am I bothering you?”

“Always!” Obi-Wan called back.

Anakin barely had a second to crow in triumph before Obi-Wan stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Don’t be rude, Anakin. Set the table. We have guests over.” And, he added, “And we’ll have to discuss your negotiation tactics after latemeal.”

* * *

Bant and Luminara showed up for latemeal, one after the other. They made appropriately delighted noises at the meal—spiced nerf, a vegetable stew, and a steamed fish dish, all seasoned with the spices that Quinlan had smuggled back into Coruscant from his mission. The spiced nerf and vegetable stew were apparently delicacies from the same planet that Quinlan had been on. Anakin still didn’t know how Obi-Wan knew that.

“If you paid more attention in your Mid-Rim Cultures courses,” Obi-Wan began, voice gearing up for a lecture.

“I passed them!” Anakin protested, ignoring his overdue assignment sitting unstarted on his datapad.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes, I suppose you did.”

Anakin had passed his Galaxy Cultures courses—just because he hadn’t gotten extra credit the way Obi-Wan had… As for his current Diplomacy course, that was another story.

He was probably going to fail that course, especially if he didn’t turn in his already late essay.

“Not everybody can be like you, Obi,” Bant said. “Cooking through the galaxy in your free time?”

“But we got to reap the benefits,” Luminara added. “By the way, I know that Reeft and Garen are out on missions, but what about Aayla?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, a furrow in his brow.

Quinlan laughed. “Sure you want to know?”

“Obi-Wan doesn’t need to know,” Anakin protested, shoveling his food into his mouth and promptly choking.

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, instantly distracted, leaning over. He pulled Anakin’s plate over. “Let me help you with that.”

Anakin practically jumped, trying to push Obi-Wan away. “It’s fine! I can cut my meat myself!”

Sufficiently distracted with the chance for bad innuendo, Quinlan snickered. “You can cut my meat for me, Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin tried very desperately to convince Quinlan not to mention what Aayla was up to with only his eyes. He wasn’t sure he was able to do so. “Gross.”

Quinlan, judging from the mischievous smirk on his face, was not convinced. “Don’t knock it until you try it.” Across from them, Luminara covered a smile with a hand, and Bant openly burbled a laugh. 

Obi-Wan, ignoring the byplay, simply smiled and pulled Quinlan’s plate over to start cutting his serving of the nerf dish into bite-sized pieces. “I don’t think that innuendo is exactly what you’re going for.”

“What if I winked with both eyes?”

Bant chimed in. “That’s called blinking, and it’s necessary for optimal eye function, Quin.”

Anakin sighed in relief as he poked his own serving. At least if everybody was focused on joking around, Quinlan would probably be distracted. 

Except: “Anyways, how was your mission, Quin?” Luminara asked, undeterred. “And where’s Aayla?”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest.

Quinlan’s mouth split into a delighted grin. “About that… you might want to talk to the Masters about Padawan Skywalker’s coursework.”

* * *

Obi-Wan said, disappointed, “That was a terrible strategy.”

“It was a good idea when Aayla suggested it,” Anakin protested.

“I’m sure it did.”

Anakin scowled at his overdue assignment. 

Obi-Wan had been very disappointed that Anakin had failed to turn in his Diplomacy work because he’d been fixing droids instead. He’d been even more disappointed to know that he’d tried to convince Aayla to write his essay for him (“Plagiarism is a very serious offence, Anakin!”).

It also turned out that Obi-Wan was capable of leveraging multiple instances of disappointment at Anakin at the same time.

“She wasn’t actually writing my essay for me,” Anakin tried. “She just said she’d skip latemeal and pretend to be writing it. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Aayla had said that Obi-Wan would be disappointed, but once he found out that Aayla was not actually writing Anakin’s assignment for him, he’d get over the disappointment, and then he’d be so relieved that he’d forget to be mad. It was an idea that could only have come out of Quinlan Vos’ padawan, because it barely hung onto the edges of reasonable by the tips of its fingers.

It had made so much sense when Aayla had suggested it.

It turned out that Obi-Wan was now disappointed that Anakin hadn’t finished his assignment, disappointed that he’d tried to get Aayla to write his assignment for him, and was disappointed that he’d gotten Aayla to skip latemeal.

It was even worse.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, in his I’m not mad, I’m disappointed voice, “What were you thinking?”

Anakin sulked back.

Obi-Wan had already given a lecture: about how meals were about sharing and taking care of each other, how if Anakin paid more attention, he would know that cooking had practical applications when it came to diplomacy, about how it was wrong to lie about finishing his assignments, how it was wrong to get Aayla involved in his mess, how he was always available to help, Anakin.

It was a good lecture, which meant that it stung in all the places where it hurt to be stung, and made the guilt feel even worse.

“I didn’t want you to find out that I didn’t finish my essay.”

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Missing assignments happens. You just have to do better next time.”

This was, of course, worse than if Obi-Wan had yelled at him. “Can you just yell at me?”

Obi-Wan raised a brow back. It was the severely disappointed brow. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

Well, Anakin decided, it couldn’t get much worse than this. “I got an extra essay for frivolous uses of the Force.”

“Anakin!”

* * *

“Do you know why Master Obi-Wan cooks so much?” Aayla asked.

“Because he doesn’t trust Master Quinlan to not get food poisoning?” Anakin replied, scowling at his essay, which was still not getting written.

Aayla frowned at him. It looked remarkably like Obi-Wan’s disappointed frown, which meant that Aayla had been spending far too much time with Obi-Wan, and not enough time with Quinlan. “It’s because he’s a diplomat.”

“What about that?”

“Diplomats have to know all about the places they’re going.” Aayla said loftily. “And you’re Master Obi-Wan’s padawan.”

“So?”

“So you also have to know all about the places that you’re going to go to.” She rolled her eyes, as if it were blatantly obvious.

It was, but Anakin was too busy scowling at his essay and trying to get it to combust with his eyes alone. “What does that have to do with cooking?”

“Do you have any idea how many diplomatic negotiations are done over food?”

This was turning too much into an Obi-Wan Disappointed Lecture. He expected better of Aayla. “No.” But if it really was an Obi-Wan Disappointed Lecture, then what would come next was—

“Well,” Aayla said, cheerfully, in the exact tones of Obi-Wan Making A Point. “If you wrote your essay, then you’d probably know.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was one of the first food fics i planned, and i actually started it as a series of jokes. suffice to say, i quickly realized that it was not the right tone for the food fics series. 
> 
> however! this is also only one iteration of this story. i have written two stories with the same basis, because when we take ideas and write them, we bring our own experiences to them, and i feel very strongly that there is no reason to be tied to one interpretation of an idea. in that regard, i wanted to take the same idea and write them two very different ways, as a reminder that in fandoms, we all approach the same canon, but we approach it with different experiences, and we should never be scared to write our own interpretation of a story. you can read the other version, which is part of the food fics series [ [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312254) ].
> 
>   * Follow me on twitter [@virdant](http://virdant.twitter.com)
>   * [Like & retweet on twitter](https://twitter.com/virdant/status/1302417791446708225)
>   * Comment and kudo below
> 


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [客氣 | courtesy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312254) by [virdant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/pseuds/virdant)




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